


Are we destined to burn (or will we last the night)

by bellofthetolppl



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Season/Series 04, and bellamy caring after her, basically clarke comes back to becca's lab when praimfaya hits and finds bellamy inside, hurt!clarke, injecting himself with the nightblood, then passes out in his arms and he freaks out, this time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:21:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22364029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellofthetolppl/pseuds/bellofthetolppl
Summary: From a twitter prompt-In 4x13 Clarke comes back to Becca's lab running from Praimfaya only to find Bellamy inside injecting himself with night blood.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 13
Kudos: 348





	Are we destined to burn (or will we last the night)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is just my take on a prompt I saw on twitter post 4x13. I had lots of fun writing hurt!Clarke and Bell taking care of her for a change since I am known to usually do the opposite scenario. I loved doing this setting and them being cute idiots in love and pain.
> 
> Special thanks to Zahraa for supporting me in this endeavor and making sure I actually post this fic. :)))
> 
> Comments and kudos are much appreciated!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @jasperjoordan

The world is fire all around her. 

She can feel it burning at the heels of her boots, melt her hazmat suit. 

She tries to force herself not to breathe because when she fell,her helmet broke, but it’s hard and she had never been good at it. 

Running to the lab, doesn’t make it any easier for her lungs and she asks herself in that moment, _**why she’s even trying so hard to get there, when she’ll die anyway.**_

But it must be some kind of self-preservation instinct, because surely it’s not her brain. 

_**Her head told her heart**_ she’s dying hours ago, when she got to talk to him and the best thing she could do right now is just stop and maybe find a tree to lean on, wait for the fire to swallow her whole, yet her legs don’t stop.

They push and push and push until her body crashes in the door. 

With one swift movement which surprises even herself, she opens it and rushes inside.

The lamps are dim, but the cold blue atmosphere of the lab is so different from the world burning outside that she wonders if maybe she died and went back to the sky.

But as she runs down the stairs and commands her lungs to breathe for her, she realizes that she’s actually still here-the air around her is stale, synthetic somehow, so un-earth like and yet it’s what’s saving her in this brief moment before she dies.

And then she hears it, a voice she never thought she’d get lucky enough to recognize again, not when she was certain she saw the rocket dissent in the misty sky.

 _ **“CLARKE!”**_ it breaks, cracks, like her own armor and she’s sure she must be dreaming because there’s no way she sees Bellamy Blake leaning on the cold metallic table, one hand shooting a syringe filled with black blood in the other, his own red jumpsuit half unzipped and a very old, full of holes greenish shirt covering his beautiful chest. 

_**No**_ , she thinks, it maybe even comes out of her lips in a broken muffled sound that makes no sense. 

_**No, this can’t be happening,**_ he’s not here, it’s just her stupid radiation soaked brain playing tricks with her and she’s so certain that this is what’s happening that she smiles to herself. 

_**At least she won’t be alone when she dies.** _

The vision of him here will guide her all the way to the light.

God, she feels lucky in ways she never deserves to be but she’d be damned if she isn’t selfish in this one last moment, having him here with her, even if it’s her own mind and broken heart conjuring his image.

“Clarke!” he yells again and it sounds so damn real it makes her tilt her head towards his ghost image and wonder how come he seems so solid, so…himself? 

How come he waits till he’s pushed the entire vial of blood in his arm before he tosses it away, the glass breaking on the ground just like her heart has years before when she left him at the gates after mount weather, his strong arms reaching to catch her as her feet, her strong legs that carried her here to her grave, finally give in.

 _ **“God, no! No, no, no!”**_ he whispers as he maneuvers her into his arms. 

He softens a fall that never happens and when she opens her eyes again and looks up at him she finds him looking down with eyes filled with tears and worry. 

Those beautiful warm chocolate brown eyes that always saved her, brought her back, pulled her to the ground when she felt like flying to the stars. 

“No, you’re fine. You’ll be fine, this will work.” 

His hand cups her cheek and she winces because of the burns there. 

The gesture sends a shiver down her body and as her head lolls to his chest and her angry tired lungs cough out blood all over his beautiful green shirt, she starts to wonder.

It can’t feel that real. 

A ghost couldn’t be strong enough to keep her sitting. An image conjured by her brain wouldn’t have their voice crack in such an inhumane way.

God, no, it’s her turn to scream and if she could, she would’ve but when she tries to talk all that comes out is another cough and more blood.

“I got you, I’m here, don’t worry” he whispers, pulling a clean rag from somewhere and cleaning her mouth with it. 

His fingers are gently removing strands of hair from her sweaty face and all she can think about as her eyes flutter is how just mere hours ago, his thumb swiped over her forehead with the words “Cold sweat”. 

The memory made her smile and she struggled to talk again because he couldn’t be here. 

“You-Bellamy…what did you-”

“Shh” he shushes her as he leans his head down to hers, hand cupping her cheeks carefully, nose brushing against hers “I got you, Clarke.”

“You’ll die.”

“I won’t.”

“We’ll both…this wasn’t supposed to…”

“Hey, don’t talk, please.” he begs, lifting her lifeless body up in his arms as she feels her arm fall down numbly, fingers spreading open. 

He must hate that she looks so close to death because he takes it and brings it up to his chest, covers his heart with it 

_**“I’m here.”**_ the trumping of his heart confirms her biggest fears, removes any doubt left that this could just be one last sweet dream.

“You shouldn’t be” she coughs again and he moves her head up and brushes the blood away once more, this time his thumb swipes under her nose, which apparently has started bleeding too. 

Her vision’s blurry when she looks at him again and she hates that she can’t see his eyes, that all she makes out is one blurry spot and a dark halo of cuts.

“You should’ve…let me….save you.”

He utters something she can’t make out and then her head lolls and crashes against his chest, right over his fast beating heart. 

She hears him frantically call her name, pat her cheek, lift her chin up and try to bring her back but despite his efforts, her eyes close, darkness consumes her but still…she holds on to his heartbeat like a lifeline and somehow the pain in her limbs lessens and the pitch black she succumbs to, doesn’t seem like an ending.

_**Or so she likes to think.** _

She ends up being right, waking up with a sharp, painful gasp. 

Her whole body jerks and her lungs feel like drowning once again. 

She can’t make her surroundings until a blurry figure jumps from somewhere on her right and grabs her hand in an almost painful squeeze. 

“Clarke!” her head rolls to the side of the voice and she blinks rapidly, trying to push the blur away. “It’s okay, here-” strong fingers lift her head up, a glass is pressed to her lips and suddenly water seems like the most perfect drink out there. 

“Easy there, princess” the voice warns and though worried, she can almost hear the smile on the person’s lips as they talk.

Finally her head falls down into something soft. 

Was it a pillow? And she finds a myriad of freckles and brown warmth eyes staring down at her, a few curls hanging over a pale forehead, lips pursed in a worried line. 

“Hey” he says. She swallows hard, squeezes her eyes for a moment and before she knows it her hand flails in the air searching for her lifeline. His fingers wrap tightly around her bony snow white ones and she lets herself breathe.

“I’m alive.”

“Damn right you are.” he sits on the cot next to her and she looks around to find them still in the lab. 

Her thoughts rush all in one minute-the memory of him pushing the black blood shot in his vein, him rushing to her, holding her, promising her he’s here and all of a sudden her hand tightens its grip around his and she looks at him with anger.

_**“What the hell did you do, Bellamy?”** _

“I don’t think now’s the time to-” he tries cutting her off but she won’t have it. 

When she tries to sit up she realizes she’s still too weak but she refuses to lay back down on the pillows and remains stubbornly in this mid way position until his arm wraps around her shoulders and he scoops behind her, practically pulling her back to his chest and helping her sit somewhat upright. 

With this new position, her hand can easily travel down the inside of his arm and find the small hole he did with the syringe. 

“Dammit, Clarke, will you stay still, you’re really hurt.”

“You injected yourself” she states instead and he gives her a curt nod “Why? Why didn’t you leave with them, Bellamy? Why would you do such a stupid thing?”

The fact that he doesn’t respond right away but instead stares at her eyes for a long moment, just holding her close and finally, leaning down to carefully touch her forehead with his lips, so briefly, she’d almost consider it to be a hallucination, makes her heart skip.

 _ **“You know why.”**_ he finally whispers. 

Her face softens and though she’s still mad she lets herself melt into him.

“You have saved me so many times and yet you refuse to let me do the same for you.” she mumbles, nose buried in his chest, cheek resting over his head. 

He’s so warm and though her whole body feels like it’s burning and she’s uncomfortable and in pain in a way that if she leaves his embrace, she’d probably feel a bit better, she refuses to let him go. 

“How much do you hurt right now?” he asks, ignoring her statement upon noticing her discomfort. 

Her breathing’s ragged, her pulse too fast and she feels the sweat gather at her forehead again. 

“I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.” he won’t take it, of course he won’t, so he carefully slips away from behind her but puts a few more pillows so she’s still in the same position, before grabbing a wet cloth and pressing it to her forehead. 

She exhales with relief but still struggles to make her lungs contract.

“How long have I’ve been out?”

“Three days.” her eyes snap open at his response and he gives her a gentle shrug in apology “You’ve been really sick, Clarke. Coughing blood and burning up, I…I patched up your burns but-” she looks down and realizes that he’s removed the awfully uncomfortable hazmat suit, changed her black shirt with a blue one and wrapped bandages all over her hands and arms. 

When her fingers trail down to her chest and stomach and lift the soft shirt she finds he’s put on bandages there too, somehow succeeding in wrapping them on his own. 

She can feel a few on her feet but she can’t see them as he’s covered her with a light yellow blanket. 

“Hey” she reaches to cup his cheek while he’s shyly staring down at his feet “You did a great job.” if he hadn’t done it,she’d probably be dead from the infection by now. 

Cleaning them and wrapping them was the best he could do. She could only hope the night blood might do it’s job and help them heal faster. 

“Your heels were almost fully burned” he says quietly “Which is good cause at least I won’t be worrying about you trying to stand up too fast and boss me around.”

“You’ll have to carry me though.” she says lightly but his look is serious.

“That won’t be hard. You’re light as a feather.” she smiles sadly at that and leans harder into the pillows, feeling tired and sleepy all of a sudden. 

He takes the cloth from her forehead away again and damps it in fresh water before carefully placing it back on. 

She uses the moment to let her eyes fall down to his hand and before he can pull away, she wraps her fingers around his wrist and lets her fingers trail up there, caressing the still soft spot gently. he made with the syringe again.

“What if it doesn’t work?” she asks afraid to meet his eyes. 

He sits back next to her and takes her hand with both of his, keeping her freezing fingers warm, bringing them up to his mouth and blowing some hot air. She might be burning but she was shivering from the fever so hard she felt her teeth clatter.

“Then we die.”

“That simple?” she smiles sadly at him and he shrugs “Together?”

“Together, princess.” he reassures and she almost laughs at the silly nickname he still sometimes used but instead it turns into another bloody cough and he’s there yet again wiping her mouth and giving her water.

“I wish you didn’t take it that much to heart.” she whispers once he’s placed her head back on the pillows. Apparently he doesn’t quite get what she means because he raises her eyebrow at her confused “The whole together thing…I regret saying it now. You could’ve been safe if not for it.”

“Well I do not regret it.”his voice comes out angry “God, Clarke, I hate that you think so little of yourself, that you so carelessly and so eagerly throw your life away!”

“As if you don’t!” she chides with less fever than he does simply because she’s to tired and in pain “If there’s anyone who doesn’t put himself first, it’s you, Bellamy.”

“That’s how it’s always been for me” he cuts her off angrily and the admission makes her heart leap “You were supposed to have a good life, better life.” he shakes his head and looks down at the flood, still angrily holding onto her hand, tightening his grip.

“I hoped…that we won’t always need to fight. That at some point there will be peace and you and the others could…I don’t know” he purses his lips frustrated at a dream that was never bound to happen “Just _**have it better.**_ ”

She indulged in his fantasy for a brief moment.

“You mean if we ever got to the sea back at the drop ship” he shrugs again, still refusing to meet her eyes “Yeah, that would been nice. Have a camp by the water, the kids running around swimming, having fun. You fishing” she kicks his leg with her foot and groans at the pain which finally makes him look at her but with that smug expression that she’s known from the old days. 

“Ah, so you were planning on being your princess-y self while I did the hard work again, I see where you’re going with it, Griffin.” she smiles, closes her eyes for a minute, picturing it all. 

Monty and Jasper arguing about the best moonshine to make, maybe even try a new beer recipe, then climb on Bellamy’s shoulders or teasing him in the water while he’s trying to catch some fish. 

Her standing by the beach observing them with a soft smile while behind her fires were being started, kids were gathering to have breakfast and a bunch of cabins huddled together hid safely in the treeline.

“That would’ve been great.” she mumbles feeling herself fall again. 

His hand is cupping her cheek once more and he leans closer because she inhales his scent and it makes her shiver in a way different from the fever.

“Get some rest, princess.” he mumbles before his lips touch her forehead. 

She doesn’t have the strength to respond so she simply lets herself succumb to the darkness.

* * *

The next time she wakes, they are in a different place…a room and it takes her a moment to recognize the place as one to which she’s been before when she first arrived and came to take a shower and rest. 

Her shivers are so strong that it feels as if everything around her is moving in a blur, but then the softness behind her back, the warmth spreading down her back, she realizes are not from the soft pillows or the bed, they are from hands tightly wrapped around her.

“Hey, you’re okay, you’re fine.” a voice whispers “It’ll be fine, Clarke.”

She doesn’t really know what’s happening, keeps fading in and out. His hands move all around her, raising her neck and helping her swallow something.

“There you go, take this pill now, come on” 

Medicine she thinks faintly. Where the hell did he find medicine? 

She wants to ask but doesn’t have the strength to so she just follows his lead-drinks the water, let’s her head fall back to the pillows. 

That repeats again, more times than she can remember. It’s not just the radiation that has soaked through her body and tried to swallow her whole-there were nightmares too. 

A ground covered with burned bodies, children with burns just like hers, coughing blood and asking her _**“Why?”**_ , Maya’s kind face yelling at her for being a killer, destroying her and Jasper and everyone else. 

Her dad lifting her up in the air as a kid, letting her jump on the bed, talking to her, holding her close to his heart and then her pulling back and seeing his face twist unnaturally until they fall on the ground and get sucked out in the night sky. 

And then there was Bellamy…Bellamy crawling in the ventilation systems, suffocating because of the fire burning at his feet but still reaching for her, squeezing her hand, whispering to her, who was safe, to hold on.

Finally, after many nightmares she wakes up and she can’t feel the shivers. 

She’s not cold or hot and when she looks down at her hands she finds them patched up, but once she lifts her fingers to her face, she realizes the burns are tender to the touch but not too horrible. 

She’s still in the same bed and when she moves up, she finds Bellamy asleep next to her, over the blankets, his arm thrown over her stomach, dark circles under his eyes, his breathing heavy.

She lets herself take him in this moment where he’s so softly, quietly sleeping. 

It wasn’t often when they got to get some decent sleep without any nightmares or interruptions and judging by his tired look, he must’ve not gotten it in a while. 

Without thinking too much about it, because she’s honestly too tired of considering her every action, she lets her fingers brush a curl behind his ear then gently cups his cheek. 

The movement sets him off immediately and she pulls away, mentally cursing herself for waking him up.

Back at the dropship, late one night when they were sharing a drink by the campfire, he had told with her that he was a light sleeper.

He had to be. 

Growing up with your illegal sister sleeping on the cot next to you was a risk and he couldn’t take any chances. 

Sometimes there were surprised inspections in the middle of the night that even his mom didn’t know of,so they had to act fast, wake up, hide Octavia under the floor, pretend that everything’s okay and so he learned. 

He told her he woke up at least four times a night even without any noises interrupting him sleep, more if even the lightest thud could be heard from somewhere. 

So of course, his eyes snap open right away and he’s sitting in a second.

“Clarke, you’re awake” he doesn’t let himself exhale until his eyes have roamed from her head to her feet, making sure she’s okay. 

Still, before Clarke can even say something, he’s up, handing her a glass of water and forcing her to drink it. 

There’s a bowl of soup that’s somehow still warm on the nightstand and her heart clenches at the thought of him bringing it here for her.

“Come on, you have to eat.” he orders after helping her adjust the pillows and sit up more comfortably.

“How long was I out for this time?” she dreads asking the question but she needs to know. 

Honestly, she didn’t expect being sick for so long, not considering the fact that Luna recovered in just a few days. 

But with the amount of radiation she’s been exposed to and the fact that she wasn’t a natural nightblood it made sense for it to be this way. 

“A week” he swallows hard at that and watches her eyes widen in surprise “I almost lost you.” his voice cracks at that so she looks at him fondly and reaches to cup his cheek when he sits next to her after placing the tray on her legs. 

“At some point your fever was so high you seized.” she doesn’t know what to say so she just lets her eyes fall to her lap. “You were coughing blood, yelling in your sleep…I think you had nightmares?” she nods shamefully but still can’t face his eyes.

“I’m okay now, though so…it must’ve worked.” 

“You’re better” he emphasizes “Not great.” she rolls her eyes at his constant worrying “But yeah…I think it did.” he gives her the spoon but when she takes it from him under his determined look, her hand shakes so hard she can’t hold it so instead he snatches it away and before she can protest, he’s feeding her soup.

“Oh, come on now, I’m not-”

“Eat!” his angry look doesn’t give room for any arguing so she just pouts for a second too long “What? I won’t make the airplane shit I did with Octavia so you better just open your mouth” she sighs, crosses her arms over her chest but finally relents and lets him feed her “Good, princess.” he says mockingly which make her groan “Your mom must’ve had real fun with you as a kid.”

“Dad was always the one to force me to have dinner.” she reminisces and he smirks.

“Of course you were your daddy’s girl.” instead of choosing to remember the way her father died and how much she misses him, she focuses on their healthy banter and thinks of him arguing with her the same way Bellamy was now, only back then she was a really stubborn determined four year old. 

“What did he promise you?” she raises her eyebrow confused “I always had to give something to O to make her finish her meager algae ration.” he explains “A story before bed or a game we could play while mom worked on her orders by the table.”

She can see him so clearly now. 

A sweet eleven or twelve year old boy trying to make his very energetic opinionated sister finish dinner. That must’ve been something else and knowing how Octavia was, he surely didn’t have the best of fun doing that.

“He’d promise me watching football games late after bedtime.” Bellamy smiles as he feeds her another spoon.

“That must’ve been cool.” he says solemnly.

“You never had that?”

“You ever been to factory, princess?” she shakes her head “Well…the short answer is no, we didn’t. I once saw a movie though…it was some celebration or something, I was young, before Octavia was born.”

“Oh yeah?” she’s eager to hear more about his life and though she’s growing tired, she doesn’t want to sleep anymore, she wants to be here with him, listen to his voice, eat his warm soup, the one he prepared just for her. “What was it about?”

“I don’t know…something romantic I think. Some guy writing letters to this girl, building her a house.”

“You don’t remember it well do you?” she teases him and he shrugs like the boy he was before.

“Mom cried, I remember that so clearly because she never did. In my life I’ve seen her cry only a handful of times but this was one of them.”

“I think you saw the Notebook” she suspects and he eyes her curiously as he scoops the last of the soup and she eats it even if she feels full because she’s sure he won’t let her go otherwise “The boys in Alpha liked taking the girls to that one.”

“Who did you go with?”

“Wells.” he hums in agreement.

“That boy was smitten with you.” he comments as he takes the tray away “I was kind of jealous.”

“Oh so you admit to liking me back then, huh?” a blush creeps up his cheek and he waves her off before he adjust the blankets on her and sits back by her legs.

“Don’t think too highly of yourself, princess.”

“You did! You’re just too scared to admit it!” she dares stick her tongue at him and he actually laughs at that. 

Good. She’s missed that. Seeing him smile, laugh in a genuine real way, feeling actual joy. He deserved it. 

“How have you been?” she asks, pulling him by the wrist to lay down next to her. He tries to fight her for a bit but she’s feeling somewhat stronger and wins this one with ease which means he must be really tired “Any nosebleed? Fever?”

“I haven’t actually been exposed, so no.” he promises when he settles on the pillows next to her “I figured once we leave the lab and head to…wherever we do, I’d get to have my princessy moment.” she smiles at his stupidity when he elbows her in the ribs

“And what’s that mean exactly?”

“Oh,you know, the usual…pass out in your arms, tell you to leave me and save yourself, then cry as you hold me and let you drag me to a comfy bed while I so romantically cough blood all over your only shirt.”

She slaps his chest and they both laugh as she slides down the pillows and rolls over to meet his eyes.

“Thank you”she says finding his hand and squeezing it tight “For taking care of me…for not leaving me behind.”

His smile is soft now,gentle, loving and she watches as he scoots closer and his lips touch her forehead. 

It’s not enough, though, she selfishly wants more, so without really thinking too much about it, she grabs his chin and keeps his face close. 

For a few seconds they just stare at each other’s eyes, breathing heavily, their hearts trumping in their ears and then, when she’s sure that what she sees in his eyes is nothing but certainty and undeniable love, she surges forward and kisses his lips. 

Despite being prepared for it, it still takes him a second to realize what’s happening but then he kisses her back and it’s so easy, so light. It’s so much less complicated than he ever thought would be. 

They fit perfectly in each other’s arms, in a way that when his hand ends up on her back and he pushes her closer to his chest, he feels like whatever made his heart feel hallow for days, is gone now. 

The pain disappears, there’s only warmth, like the sun grazing his cheeks on a bright summer morning. 

Her legs intertwine with his like waves finding their way to a shore. Her fingers bury in his curls and she tugs at them playfully, teasingly. He smiles into her mouth and when they pull away they are both flushed, their cheeks burning red with pure joy.

“Damn…you know how to take a guy’s breath away, princess.”

She presses her forehead to his as her thumb caresses his cheek.

“You’ve seen nothing yet, Blake.” his chuckle makes her smile even wider and then she opens his eyes to find him looking at her, thinking over something and swallowing hard. His hand swipes over her forehead-there’s no more cold sweat there anymore but he still does it in a warm, gentle way, to show her his love.

“For the record” he whispers “I’d never leave you behind.”

She smiles at that and buries her head in the crook of his neck while his hand caresses her back. 

Though she can hear his heart beat she still moves her hand up to his neck to check his pulse, needing one more reassurance in the cold awful world they lived in, that he’s here, real, that her mind isn’t conjuring yet another horrible ghost for her past.

As if being able to read her thoughts, he tightens his grip on her and pulls her even closer, whispering in her ear the only words she ever wanted to hear leave his lips and shielding her from a world dying by fire in which the hearts of the last two people alive, beat as one.


End file.
